New Adventures
by mercedesray
Summary: Callie/Erica with an assist from Mark Sloan - set after S4 finale and going from there. Femslash, of course. Read and review, pretty please with cherries and whatever else you like.
1. New Test Leper

...

A/N: Chapter 1/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 1, **New Test Leper**, is told from Mark Sloan's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types! PLEASE! Ok thank you! Bye bye!

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein. Or Jesus. Or Buddha, for that matter.

……

"New Test Leper" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_I can´t say that I love Jesus  
that would be a hollow claim.  
He did make some observations  
and I´m quoting them today._

……

"Mark Sloan! The usual, I presume?" Joe swiped at the bar with a damp rag as I collapsed into the barstool.

"Water," I said. Joe cocked his head, almost opened his mouth, and shut it quickly.

"Water it is!" He disappeared the other end of the bar, where Cristina Yang was holding court over interns, loudly explaining the procedure she'd done on Cement Boy in the OR. The interns were listening like thieves to her tale of near-death heroics, her head bobbing and weaving, her hands replicating the procedure in the air as she orated.

I popped a pretzel in my mouth, thinking back to the drama I'd help engineer today between Callie and Erica. It was hard not to feel proud – I'd finally been able to figure out what a woman was thinking _before_ she even knew it herself. A definite first for me. This 'new leaf' was going to be really helpful if I just remembered to think first, act second.

"I heard you lost out today, man," Joe slid the glass of water into my hand.

"Mark Sloan never loses, my friend. The greatest loss is to receive without gratitude," I bit down hard on a pretzel and chewed it into dust. "That's Buddha."

"Buddha? Deep. Very deep."

"I know. New leaf."

"So where is Dr. Torres?" Joe's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Callie's with – " I paused before saying _my girlfriend_. Think first, act second. Erica Hahn wasn't anywhere near being my girlfriend. I downed the rest of the water. "She's with Erica. I think they left together."

"They _left_ together? Did they go back to my apartment? I heard they made out. Is that true, Sloan?" Cristina suddenly materialized behind me, yanking on my arm, her words all running together into one long, desperate word.

I swiveled around to face Yang, thinking first. "I don't know."

"Come on, Sloan. I heard they were going at it like two horny teenagers in the parking lot! You had to have seen it, you were just out there." She paused between each of the last three words, poking her finger to my chest with each of the three. She narrowed her eyes and waited.

"Spill it, Mark," Joe urged, refilling my water glass. I swiveled back around, shoving another handful of pretzels in my mouth, my eyes darting between Cristina's anxious expression and Joe's bemused one.

"S'true," I mumbled through the mouthful of crumbs. I chewed slowly, thinking, there is no harm in telling the truth, right? The truth will set you free, or something.

"I knew it!" Cristina hopped up onto the neighboring barstool. "This whole time, Callie's been defending that evil Hahn – I knew there was something going on. Callie isn't nice to _anyone_. And Hahn, she's a completely different person when Callie is around. This explains everything!"

"Callie's nice," I mumbled. Cristina's smirk vanished.

"You're only saying that because she slept with you. Thin walls, remember?" She knocked twice on the bar. "I hear everything. She used you as a rebound lay from George!" Cristina swirled her finger around her glass, relentlessly. She was going to keep needling me until I agreed with her. I'd seen her in action against Derek, and this was not a battle I wanted to fight. Not tonight.

"Judge not, lest ye –"

"Jesus? You're quoting Jesus now? When, exactly, did McSteamy go fundy? Is this because of the Date and Tell thing, like, penance or something?" Cristina stood up, hands on her hips. Using a trick that Callie once taught me, I just stared back at her. Through her. She lasted longer than other people but eventually, Yang threw up her hands and stomped away.

Joe refilled my glass again, thoughtful. "Buddha. Jesus. This really is a new leaf for Mark Sloan, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to reply when the bar door swung opened and in walked Erica Hahn, looking pale and tired. She didn't look around the bar, her usual confident swagger more like a confused shuffle as she made her way to a table and sat down, hands in her lap. Cristina and the interns stopped talking and stared obviously at the blonde.

"That it is, Joe. Gimme her usual, will you?" Joe nodded. He quickly poured the merlot and handed it to me. Act second, I thought. I made my way over to her table.


	2. Undertow

...

A/N: Chapter 2/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 2, **Undertow**, is told from Erica Hahn's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Undertow" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_I can´t say I´m fearful.  
I can´t say I´m not afraid.  
I am not resisting,  
I can see._

……

The Calm is a place that no one knows about except me. It's not even a physical place; actually, it's more like a state of consciousness. I gave it that name way back when I was a kid, when I first discovered it, the day my father drowned. By naming it, I thought I could control it.

But, The Calm still blindsides me, like it did that first day at the ocean. I was eight, and my family and I were vacationing at Ocean Beach. I'd just found a dead jellyfish, I was poking it with a stick and wondering how something so iridescent and beautiful could also be so deadly. My concentration was interrupted when I heard the shouting of a group of adults at the shoreline. I ran quickly towards them, trying to push myself through, to no avail. Their legs formed an unbreakable wall. I turned around and saw my mother running at full speed towards me, scooping me up, and thrusting us both to the front of the pack of onlookers. I could see lifeguards swimming at top speed toward the distant buoys, and I could hear my mother screaming my father's name over and over.

When I saw a hand flailing in the air, barely visible above the waterline, which is when The Calm overtook me. Instantly, my mother's screams were muted, as were the screams and shouts of all the other adults. Darkness enveloped the periphery of the sunny beach. All that I could hear were waves crashing on the shore, over and over.

Days later, after my father's funeral, my mother told me all the things that I'd done that day. I'd wrestled free from her and run headlong into the water, trying to get past the breakers – screaming the whole time about my father. It took 3 men to pull me back to the shore, where they held me down until I stopped screaming. After that, I was completely subdued and didn't cry or speak as they dragged my father's body from the water. I sat down next to his body and held his hand, but never said a word. I remember nothing after seeing the hand flailing.

When I think about it now, the only feeling that I remember is The Calm.

……

I was at Joe's bar – that much I knew for sure - it was dark, but I recognized the table. I had a glass of merlot, I must have ordered it but I had no recollection. The world was slowly coming back into focus, the edges slowing sharpening. The sound of the jukebox was at an imperceptibly low volume, but it was getting progressively louder.

As I tried to recall my last memory, I heard a very loud voice, incredibly close. I wasn't alone.

"…and then I bought all these baby clothes. Addison never believed it, but I was excited to be a father, really excited. I've always wanted a family-"

"Sloan?" I rubbed my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Mark looked at me with sad eyes, surprised. "Spilling my soul. It was nearly a record, you allowed me to talk without interrupting with sarcasm or calling me pretty, for nearly twenty whole minutes. I knew it was too good to last."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Give or take. Listen, you look like hell. Are you okay?"

"I feel…calm," I hesitated, fearing the necessity of explaining The Calm to Mark Sloan, who would no doubt use it against me at the first opportunity. I'd learned long ago that colleagues rarely handled the information with tact or understanding. I'd just recently been able to tell Dr. Wyatt without fearing that she'd let Richard in on the secret.

Sloan's expression changed, a grin spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed knowingly.

"What?" I demanded.

"Callie has that effect," he said, sipping his water. His words hung in the air like heavy fog. At that instant, my last memory came flooding back – Richard, angry, telling me I needed to teach Cristina Yang – that I wasn't doing my job – and Yang was sitting within listening distance, no less. I leaned down, cradling my head in my hands.

"Callie," I whispered. I looked up at Mark. "What happened?"

"I think you know more than I do!" Sloan laughed.

"Cut it out, Sloan. I need to know where she went!" He finally realized that I was serious and stopped laughing. His voice was suddenly compassionate.

"Erica, I thought she was with you until you came in here alone. Last I saw, you two were attached at the lips in the parking lot!"

_Shit_, I thought, _The Calm_. Stupid damn Richard, this was his fault. He got me so worked up about Yang that The Calm blindsided me. And Callie, my best friend, my life line, had kissed me and I couldn't even remember it. I'd been waiting for this day for months, hoping and dreaming like a schoolgirl. And now she was nowhere to be found.

"Have you called her?"

I flipped open my phone and dialed her cell phone.


	3. Low Desert

...

A/N: Chapter 3/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 3, **Low Desert**, is told from Callie Torres's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Low Desert" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_there´s a radio tower, it´s egging you on.  
back to the place where you never belonged.  
where the people thrive on their own contempt.  
whatever meaning is long gone spent. _

……

I packed quickly – it was one of the few things I did exceptionally well – but this time, I blew by previous Callie Torres World Packing Records by nearly an hour. And that included a call to Richard, informing him that I was taking family emergency leave for the next week. Luckily, I was able to leave him a message, because I'm a terrible liar.

I scribbled a note for Yang as I carried the final box out to my car, a refurbished Mustang that my dad gave me when I graduated med school. He'd wanted to get me something brand new, but I insisted on the classic machine that I could mess around with in my spare time. Plus, old cars were roomy enough to sleep in. I'd moved once every year since I began college, sometimes sleeping in a car for days.

_Destination: anywhere,_ I thought, as I merged onto the I-5. I cranked up the radio and manually rolled down the window, and just as all the stress of the past 24 hours started to flow out into the cool Seattle evening, my cell phone rang. Erica. I held it up and began screaming the lyrics of the radio's pop tune directly at the phone. Then, unceremoniously, I threw the phone out the window.

……

Addison was not expecting me. I wanted to call, but my impulsive phone toss prevented that. My father's voice echoed in my head: _see what you did, acting like a spoiled child_?

I tried to find a pay phone, but that was worthless because I didn't know Addie's number. My whole life was in a SIM card, and that fact alone sent me into hysterics as I neared L.A. I didn't even know where my best friend...my _other_ best friend…lived. What did that say about me?

Luckily, I remembered where the clinic was from Addison's last visit and I drove there, no sleep, eyes bloodshot, hair like a bird's nest. It was a beautiful place, posh, clean and the exact opposite of Seattle Grace. I was jealous – Addison knew when to get out, before SGH killed her, and start a new life. Apparently, I was glutton for punishment.

The clinic patients were all wealthy – I could tell by their shoes – and courteous, not one of them made eye contact with me. _They think I'm homeless_. I put on my best fake smile to the hunky receptionist boy and he pointed me towards Addison's office.

"Callie! Look what the cat dragged in – what are you doing here?" Addison peered at me over her glasses in that Addison Montgomery way which suggested that she knew _everything_ and found it all endlessly entertaining. It's the same look she had in Seattle when she was eating potato chips and telling me that she thought Erica and I made a very happy couple. I hated that look.

"Long story."

"I'm waiting."

"I went for it, with Erica. I kissed her."

"I knew it!" Addison nodded her head. "And then?"

"Then, nothing. Just, nothing. She – well I thought she was into it, she kissed me back – but then it was over and she wouldn't say anything. She just sat there on the bench –"

"At the hospital? You did this at work?"

"Um…well, yeah," I tried to run my hands through my hair, to no avail. "I couldn't help it, Mark was egging me on and I really thought it was a smart move."

"Mark? You let Sloan influence you?"

"You – you don't understand. He's changing, Addie. He even –"

"Listen, Callie. I've known him a long _long_ time, and Mark Sloan never changes. Trust me," Addison gave me the over-the-glasses look again, and I couldn't stop myself from bursting into tears. Quickly, she came around her desk and hugged me tight and let me sob on her shoulder.

"I can't – I just can't – I have to go," I blubbered.

"Go where? You just got here, Callie! Why don't you just take my keys and go to my place, I'll be done in a couple of hours and then-"

"We can go together!" The whole room brightened – my _other_ best friend and I could hit the road together! _Destination: anywhere_.

"Uh…"

"Just say yes, Addison," I grabbed her hand and started shaking it up and down violently.

"Yes?"

"Yes!!" I smiled, the first authentic good feeling I'd had in 2 days rushed through my body.

……

Addison's high heels were hooked around the barstool. Neon lights and loud clanging slot machines surrounded us as I threw back another shot. I had lost count. I grabbed Addison's arm – after the grueling drive through the desert, windows down, screaming along to the radio, I wasn't sure I'd have any voice left.

"We should go to the Elvis chapel! You have to see it, it's so awesome. George likes to pretend it was his idea, but I've always had this Elvis thing, ever since I was a little kid."

"I don't think I can go anywhere, I'm so drunk. I'm not sure my legs will even work," Addison threw back her head and laughed, which started me laughing. Suddenly everything was hilarious. It had taken almost three days and nearly 1,200 miles – but now, everything was fun again. Me and my _other_ best friend, on the loose in Sin City.

"Eh, well. It's not all that, besides, I'd rather not think about George. Or Mark Sloan. Or Seattle Grace."

"Or Erica Hahn?" Addison lifted her eyebrows. I looked down at my shoes and laughed.

"Or her," I said, careful not to look Addison in the eyes. If I lied to her face, she knew. She always knew.

"Callie," she grabbed my hand. "Just be honest with yourself."

"That's the thing, Addie. I was being honest. I put myself and my feelings on the line, and she treated me like a sideshow freak!"

"She's scared, can't you see that?"

"Of course she's scared. But I'm scared. Why do I always have to be the one making the moves? I had to practically force George to call me. Why do I always the love the ones that can't love me back?" I shut my mouth quickly, realizing what I had just said.

Just as Addison was raising her eyebrows again, her phone rang. While she talked, I ordered another drink. It was liberating not having a phone; no one knew where I was or what I was doing. As I sipped my drink, Addison shoved her phone into my hand, spilling tequila on my jeans.

"It's for you."

"Callie. Where are you, it's so loud!" Mark Sloan's scratchy voice was distant.

"Veg-assssssssssss, babeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Ow! Please don't do that again, okay? Listen, honey. Can you hear me?" Sloan paused. I said nothing. "Listen, lots of people here are worried about you, I just wanted you to know. One hot blonde surgeon, in particular. Don't do anything stupid, okay?" I remained silent. He sounded like my father. "Let me talk to Addison again, then, if you're not going to talk."

I tossed the phone back to Addie, finished my drink, and went up to the hotel room to be alone.

……

A week later, I felt refreshed and renewed, I went back to Seattle – Addison had kicked me out of her house, telling me I had to face the music. I tried to tell her to stop telling me what to do, but she just looked at me over her glasses and I shut my mouth. I left the next morning.

I moved back to the basement of SGH, where I'd always been the happiest – where I could be the old Callie Torres, the girl that danced in her underwear, the girl that didn't fall into love with surgeons with reckless abandon – most importantly, the girl that knew who she was.

Richard still hadn't caught on that I was no longer living on Yang's couch, despite my constant presence at the hospital. I think Yang knew, but she was so busy in surgeries with Erica that she never confronted me. I was easily able to hide from Erica, eating my meals in my makeshift home under the hospital.

I had no idea what to say to her, so I tried writing things down. Each letter sounded like the pathetic ramblings of a psycho, with wild assumptions and confused conclusions about both kisses we'd shared. I meditated. I danced alone. I rediscovered myself, and that girl, in a flurry of creativity, wrote a letter directly from her heart. I folded the letter and shoved it in my scrubs pocket.

Proud of my accomplishment, I turned up my radio and began singing along to the music. Someone knocked at the door. _Richard_?

"Yeah," I said.

"Callie, I thought I'd find you here," Mark Sloan leaned against the door jamb, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

"How? Addison called you?"

"Of course. You okay?"

"I guess I'm doing fine," I said.

"Erica is really worried about you, she corners me at least three times a day, asking about you. Not that I am complaining. I like a woman that takes charge…" He drifted off into fantasyland. I stood up, empowered.

"Here," I said, shoving the letter into his hand. "Give this to her."


	4. EBow The Letter

...

A/N: Chapter 4/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 4, **E-Bow The Letter**, is told from Mark Sloan's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"E-Bow The Letter" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_I can smell the sorrow on your breath  
The sweat, the victory and sorrow  
The smell of fear, I got it _

……

When Callie handed me the letter, I had no intention of reading it. I folded it into my pocket like a good boy. I was going to pass it to Erica in the hallway, just like we used to do in sixth grade. But the universe didn't like that decision, and I'm finding that the universe always gets what it wants, in the end.

As I rode the elevator up from Callie's hideout, my pager went off, Richard reminding me – for the third time this week – that the monthly Morbidity and Mortality Seminar was today. Since I'd skipped the last few, I knew that I had to attend or else face his wrath. I'd seen his wrath and I didn't want that karma.

……

The seminar room was already near capacity when I arrived. Erica Hahn, sitting in the front row, shiny blond hair curled nicely, whipped her head around like an excited child when she heard the door open. Her blue eyes were full of hope, but the shine dimmed as soon as she saw me. I offered her a weak smile and waved, and she waved distractedly as she turned back to face the podium.

Absorbing my own disappointment, I put my fingers on the edges of the envelope and made my way to her row. I hadn't been exaggerating when I told Callie that Erica had pestered me daily the whole time she and Addison were in Vegas. It had been a true test of my new leaf having the beautiful, confident surgeon at my mercy. A month ago, I would have killed to be in that position – or any position – with Hahn. But now, it was just heavy, burdensome, and not a whole lot of fun.

"Mark!" Derek's hand reached out and grabbed my wrist halfway down the aisle. "Saved you a seat."

"Thanks, I'll be right there as soon as – "

"Welcome to the monthly _required_ M&M seminar, please take your seats," Richard's booming voice through the microphone cut me off. The Chief looked right at me, half-standing, and waited. I sat down immediately.

……

The seminar was just as boring as I'd remembered – slight changes of protocol and technique presented as "major advances in medicine" – for nearly three hours. Not one mention of plastics or the risks involved – Richard and his speakers focused only on trauma cases. Yawn. Even Derek closed his eyes during one particularly excruciating presentation.

My attention perked up slightly about 2 hours in, when Erica Hahn took the stage to present about cardiothoracic medicine and their stellar success rates in recent months at SGH. She could have been reading the phone book and I would have been just as mesmerized. Just as I was wondering whether she was using that old "pretend the audience is naked" trick of public speaking, Derek poked me in the ribs.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Derek demanded under his breath.

"Ummm… Meredith. Waffling, indecision, angst. Is that about right?" I guessed, having not heard Derek talking at all.

"Hrm, yeah," his shoulders slumped. "She wants more time to think about things. What is it with her? She knows what she wants but she refuses to give in."

"Must be a woman thing, because I am always giving in to what I want!" We both laughed loudly enough to get an over-the-shoulder glare from Richard. Hahn, unfazed, rambled on about her specialty with unbridled pride.

The back door opened slightly, and Callie Torres quickly slipped into the nearest empty seat, unnoticed by everyone but me and Erica Hahn, who stumbled over her next few words before shaking her head and starting anew. Callie did not notice; her detached expression unchanging as she surveyed the room. She was present, physically, but her mind was somewhere else. I'd seen this Callie before; this was the Callie who picked me up at Joe's our first night together. This Callie was trouble.

My fingers found Callie's letter, still in my pocket, and retrieved it. Her sprawling script on the front of the SGH envelope spelled out Erica's name. I took a deep breath and looked back at Callie one more time. One day, she'd thank me for this. I opened the letter, written in longhand on SGH letterhead that she must have horded in her little hideout, and began to read.

……

_Erica,_

_I'm writing to say I'm sorry, and good-bye. Sorry for assuming too much about our friendship, sorry for not letting you know that I ran away, sorry for expecting you to feel the way I feel, and sorry for being the Callie that leaps before she looks._

_I thought, after we became friends, that I was finally starting to be the "old me" again. But then I got so confused, with Mark and the on-call sex, with you and the elevator kiss, with Addison and her vagina monologues. I haven't been happy for so long that despite all the confusion, I thought what I felt was happiness. But then when you didn't react to my kiss, I just fell apart. All I could think about was George and how stupid he made me feel for … for feeling what I felt. Does that make sense?_

_So, I'm saying good-bye, for now. Hopefully someday, we can be friends again. But right now, I have to concentrate on finding my old self again. I know in my heart that you understand, because you know me so well. _

_Love, Callie_

……

The seminar was almost finished, and I knew I had to act quickly. Richard was wrapping up and I was thinking about the karmic implications of what I was considering.

"Derek," I whispered. "Hypothetically, if um…if Meredith was going to do something monumentally stupid, and Yang wanted to stop her – would that be the right move? Karmically?"

Derek pondered my question, his eyes half-open. "I don't know about karma – but I do know that Cristina knows Meredith like the back of her hand. If she wanted to stop Meredith from being destructive, it would be the right move. No question."

I looked up at the fluorescent lights and mumbled a quick apology to no one. I opened up my briefcase and extracted a blank piece of SGH letterhead. One of the many tricks that I'd picked up as a kid was the ability to forge handwriting – it had gotten me out of numerous lectures in high school and I'd never lost the skill. I wrote quickly and shoved the letter back in Callie's original envelope.

As all the doctors and nurses filed past, I waited for Erica. She was walking slowly, chatting with Richard.

"Dr. Hahn," I said, waving the envelope. "Special delivery."


	5. Departure

...

A/N: Chapter 5/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 5, **Departure**, is told from Erica Hahn's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Departure" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_Well, everybody is young forever.  
There´s so much to tell you, so little time._

……

My heart leapt into my throat when I saw Callie's handwriting on the envelope. I gripped the envelope tightly, willing Richard to walk faster but he was plodding along at a maddening pace, recounting a boring story about Adele's fabulous cooking.

"…and then she –"

"Richard!" He looked taken aback. "I really have to review some charts for tomorrow's surgery, we'll have to finish this conversation some other time." I didn't give him a chance to interrupt, practically sprinting to the elevator and the safety of my office. As the floors passed, slowly, I uncrumpled the letter. Callie's writing was bold and decisive, and just a lovely as the woman herself.

I slammed and locked my office door, ripped open the envelope and extracted the letterhead quickly, my back to my door. I read the text, short and to the point:

_Erica,_

_ Will you show me something that nobody else has seen?_

_Love, Callie_

Shaking my head, I reread it three more times. It wasn't Callie's style to speak in riddles, she was so direct that it often surprised even me. What did the letter mean – and, just as baffling, who writes letters anymore? Who was this woman – kisses me in a parking lot, disappears for weeks, suddenly materializes from thin air and vanishes just as quickly, leaving only a cryptic letter in her wake?

……

Mark Sloan was nowhere to be found, and I searched all of the on-call rooms, twice. I paged him, but no answer. I was about to give up completely when I made my second check of the cafeteria and spotted Yang and O'Malley finishing lunch. I moved quickly, before George could sneak away.

"Yang. George."

"Oh, hi Dr. Hahn! Do you need some help on a case?" Cristina looked hopeful. I sat down, forcing my voice to sound as natural as possible.

"Well, I do need help. Have you seen Torres? I need her consult on a case, and she's not answering her pager. Could she be at home?"

"Cristina's place? Heck no – Callie's not living at–"O'Malley stopped abruptly when Cristina shoved her elbow into his side. "OUCH!"

"I can find her, Dr. Hahn, if you do me a favor," Cristina bargained. She was relentless.

"Okay, Yang. You can scrub in with me tomorrow on the bypass. Now spill it."

"She's living in the basement. But please don't tell the Chief, cuz he kicked her out last time. And I'm not even supposed to know, but she…"

I stood up and walked away as Yang continued her explanation. I didn't need to know how or why Callie Torres, heiress to the Torres fortune, was living in the basement of a hospital. I just needed to talk to her.

……

The basement of SGH was cleaner than I expected, remarkably, and quite expansive. I was able to find Callie's hideout without much trouble, as she had hung up vivid red bed sheets around her cot, and her boxes were stacked around the cot. It was sparse; she was 'borrowing' a utility sink on which she propped a mirror. An alarm clock was perched on the top of a small plastic garbage can filled with balled-up paper.

"Callie? Are you here?" I knew she wasn't in the basement. There was nowhere for her to hide, but I had seen her at the M&M seminar less than an hour ago. Dr. Torres was becoming quite an adept illusionist.

I sat down on the cot, picked up her pillow, held it to my face and inhaled. The scent was lilac, the same wonderful spring scent that Callie left wherever she went. It was intoxicating, but no matter how deeply I'd inhale, the aroma was frustratingly fleeting. I decided to wait as long as I needed to, placing the pillow beneath my head and lying back on the cot, arms over my head.

I'm not sure how long I slept, but the next thing I knew, Callie was towering over me, hands on her hips. She cleared her throat.

"Sloan told you, right?" Her eyes flitted toward the waste basket and then back to me, black as coal.

"He…uh…he…No!" I was still struggling with awakening in the dark windowless basement. "Yang."

"Damn it. But he gave you the letter?" Her voice was laced with fear.

"He did. And I read it three times, and I have a response," I said, standing up and hand-ironing my scrubs.

"Oh." She attempted to sit down, but I grabbed her hand and yanked her back up to her feet. Her face was inches from mine, but she seemed to have shrunken in height. I gazed into her eyes, forcing her to look into mine, and I saw her tears beginning to form. With my right hand, I cupped her left cheek and used my thumb to wipe away the first tear before it could fall. She gasped as I brought my other hand to her face.

"Don't be scared," I said as I leaned in and kissed her, crushing my lips against hers and moving my hands back into her dark hair. She remained as still as a statue for a few seconds, and I thought perhaps I was making another huge mistake – but then her shoulders relaxed and she opened her mouth to accept my probing tongue.

We continued to explore each other's bodies with our hands, roaming, but never breaking the kiss. Her tears had wet my cheeks as our faces pressed against each other, but neither of us cared. My hands found the small of her back and I pulled her hips closer to me as her hands slipped underneath my scrub top, rubbing up and down my back. Keeping my fingers just below the elastic of her pants, I broke the kiss and looked deeply into her dark eyes, shiny with wet.

"I need to show you something," I said, my voice low and gravelly. Callie tilted her head, a smile growing into a brilliant gleam.

"Show me, Dr. Hahn," she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing my collarbone.

I freed my hands and quickly grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the elevator. She resisted, stomping her feet.

"You can't show me here? Cause I could show you a few things, lady." I paused, seriously considering the offer. I shook my head.

"Nope, you have to play by my rules now. Come now, Dr. Torres, this is very important." She grimaced and stuck her tongue out at me, but allowed herself to be led to the elevator, our fingers intertwined as we rode.


	6. The Wake Up Bomb

...

A/N: Chapter 6/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 6, **The Wake-Up Bomb**, is told from Callie Torres's POV.

**NOTE**: Okay, this chapter was really hard to write and I know some of ya'll are going to be upset because of the ending. BUT FEAR NOT! I've still got 6 whole chapters to go to remedy the drama, and besides, GA stories wouldn't be any fun without the drama. J

Thanks again for all the encouraging reviews, this is turning out to be a lot more fun than I previously imagined, and I hope you all continue to enjoy reading and reviewing!

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"The Wake-Up Bomb" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_My head´s on fire in high esteem  
Get drunk and sing along to Queen  
Practice my T-Rex moves and make the scene  
Yeah, I´d rather be anywhere doing anything _

……

_Go with the flow_, I kept reminding myself – the motto of the "new" Callie Torres. It's the same mantra I'd used in college, scaling mountainsides or windsurfing Ho'okipa on winter breaks – no matter what happened, _go with the flow_. That's when the true adventure took hold and anything was possible.

I wrote my letter to Erica as a farewell, or at least a temporary respite to allow me to gather my thoughts. But Erica Hahn – as unpredictable as any adventure – turned the tables, surprising me with a deeply satisfying and memorable kiss right there in my basement shelter. I was shocked, but not shocked enough to falter. Callie Torres was always up for a challenge, especially when the challenge was as sexy as Erica Hahn.

I never wanted to stop touching her, even as we rode up the elevator toward the parking deck, but as soon as the door chimed, Erica quickly untangled her hand from mine. _Go with the flow_. She flashed a quick little smile before exiting the elevator and turning right, her heels clicking down the hallway with purpose. I took a deep breath, remembering our first kiss is this very elevator, a warm feeling flooding over my body. As I broke into a jog to catch up to the blond surgeon, I dashed past Sloan reviewing a chart at the nurse's station.

"Callie!" He smiled the grin of a canary-filled cat.

"Hey Mark – no time to talk, I gotta go," I yelled over my shoulder. Erica had stopped walking and I collided right into her back. "_We_ gotta go," I corrected. Erica did not acknowledge Mark, she kept staring straight ahead. I tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off and began to walk at a normal pace toward the garage. _Go with the flow_.

"You two going to Joe's?"

My eyes raked him up and down - he knew something was going on. I shook my head. "I don't think so. Night, Sloan." I caught up to Erica again as she unlocked her door and I sat silently in the passenger seat, parsing my confusion.

……

As we pulled up to Alki Beach, Erica became human again – her shoulders relaxed as she traced circles on my knee with the fingers. I'd noticed this before, of course, the way that she slowly transformed as a function of the distance from Seattle Grace – but this time, the change was complete. As we lay out the towel on the sand, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me down until I was flat on my back and she was hovering over me, a huge smile on her face.

"Amazing," I said, caressing her cheek. "Erica Hahn is just full of surprises." I arched my back and kissed her ferociously, pulling her body on top of mine. I ran my fingers through her blond hair before I quickly flipped myself over on top of her frame. She laughed as I moved my hands to her shoulders and pushed her down in the sand, knees straddling her hips.

"Not fair," she complained, still grinning. "You must do this for a living."

"Well, if you must know, I've never done this before. But I'm a fast learner."

"I'm gathering, Dr. Torres."

We continued to kiss and explore one another as the sun disappeared below the water and the beachgoers packed their bags to leave. After a while, I released my wrestling grip on her and we lay side by side on the sand, watching the stars appear in the darkening sky.

……

I repositioned my head on Erica's stomach, and turned on my side to face her. "So…this is what you wanted to show me?"

"Well, sorta. I mean, you've probably seen this place before, but this is as close as I could get to explaining it. I owe you an apology, for that kiss in the hospital parking lot. It's not simply because I don't want to mix work with pleasure – you know that I don't," She began to caress my hair and comb through it with her fingers, nervously. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But, you did."

"I know. I know I did, but you have to understand – I didn't know that I did!"

"How could you not know? You didn't say anything, you just sat there like a statue," I felt the tears beginning to well up in my eyes.

"I have this – this, problem, Callie," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "It started when I was a kid at the beach in Maryland. My father drowned." She paused, untangling her hands from my hair. "I kind of had a blackout – I call it The Calm – it happens when I get really upset. That was the first time, and most of my life I've been able to control it – but that night, that night with Richard and Yang, it happened again. When you kissed me, I wasn't even in my own body. I don't remember anything!"

Silence. I wasn't sure what to say. Her sincerity was obvious. I could have punched myself for not realizing it sooner instead of running off and crying to Addison and Mark. I should have just talked to her about it – but I was too much of a childish brat, just like my father always reminded me. I sat up and scooted towards her, grabbing her hands and pulling her up into a bear hug as she sobbed against my shoulder.

"It's over now and it's okay," I promised.

……

After Erica calmed down, we lay back down on the towel and she told me more about her childhood and her father, who was also a heart surgeon. She was an only child, like me, but beyond that, our lives could not have been much different. I told her about my own father – she knew about the money, but she didn't know about the infamous Torres family values or my father's acid tongue.

She laughed heartily when I recounted the story of drunk, hung-over George O'Malley meeting my father for the first time. Despite the pain of the memory – the beginning of the end of my marriage – telling Erica made it seem suddenly bearable. She had that effect, almost as if by telling her and knowing that she understood my pain that the pain was removed. I'd never felt that way with George, who never understood me at all.

"My turn for an apology, for the letter," I said, staring straight ahead at the stars, feeling Erica's blue eyes burning my cheek. "Looking back, I realize it was juvenile. Do adults still write Dear Jane letters, or whatever?"

"Dear Jane? Is that what you were going for? It wasn't exactly the clearest thing you've ever said, Callie."

"Really? What about the part about me finding myself, and saying good-bye? That was pretty damned direct, Erica, and I –"

"Um, Callie. Stop! I never read anything like that. Are we talking about the same letter?" Erica sat up, brow furrowed.

"What do you mean – of course it's the same letter. The one I gave Mark this morning before the M&M seminar. I asked him to give it to you, and he did, right?"

"Sure, he gave me the letter. But it was just one line, something about showing you something nobody else has seen – very cryptic and mysterious. I thought it was your way of saying you weren't mad at me anymore…" Erica's eyes got bigger as she mentally put the pieces of the puzzle together. "Sloan," she muttered, her eyes darkening.

"No," I said, shaking my head, a few steps of comprehension behind the surgeon. "Mark wouldn't rewrite a personal letter – he's really not like that at all, Erica!"

"Yes he is! He's _exactly_ like that, Callie! He's a conniving opportunist and he can't stand that you didn't pick him!" Erica's eyes were nearly as dark as mine now, and even in the dark I could see the bright red of her cheeks. Angry Erica was scaring me.

"Wait, listen. Mark's not a bad guy; he's just got a bad reputation. Besides –"

"Besides nothing! It's none of his business, and now he knows everything. I bet the entire hospital knows about us by now!" I could tell that she was far too angry to be reasoned with, for me to point out that his letter trick had actually worked – it had gotten us together. She was barely listening to me, rubbing her hands together angrily. "Who else did you tell about this, Callie? Be honest with me."

"Uh, Addison and…um, I guess Yang and George know, which also means that the Greys, Izzie and Alex…and then Mark probably said something to Derek…" I kept rambling, hoping that this revelation would pass like a dark cloud and Erica would realize that it didn't matter. But, no such luck. Before I could stop her, Erica was on her feet, yanking the towel out from under me and stomping off to her car. I got to my feet as quickly as my shocked mind would allow, but it was too late. Erica was already jamming her car into reverse and speeding off, leaving me alone in the parking lot of the nearly abandoned beach.

……

I woke up with my head on fire, the sun forcing itself between my stuck-together eyelids.

"Ugh," I moaned, grabbing a pillow and hiding my head. In the distance, I heard an unmistakable cackle. Yang. I prayed that I was having a bad nightmare.

"Welcome back to the world, Callie!" Suddenly, Cristina was all sunshine and butterflies. She grabbed the pillow from my face. Bitch.

"Wha?"

"You gotta get up now, you have rounds in about an hour. Here, drink this." She shoved a glass into my hand. "Tomato juice. Trust me, it's a cure-all. And no, it doesn't have vodka in it – you had enough of that last night."

"If you say so," I mumbled. "Anything else I should know about myself?"

"Well, here's what I could piece together. You and your little _girlfiend_ got in some sort of fight, you called Sloan and he brought you to Joe's after you made him stop at a liquor store and get you a bottle of something. You were great fun, dancing to the jukebox – definitely the life of everybody's party. And then you just kind of collapsed, and it stopped being so much fun. Mark paid me 50 bucks to let you sleep it off on my couch. What can I say, desperate times!"

The urge to vomit came suddenly and relentlessly. I pushed past Cristina and barely made it to the toilet before regurgitating last night's fun times. Cristina leaned against the door, grimacing.

"I think you should call off today."

"Like, duh," I slid down onto the cool bathroom tiles. "Can you find my phone?"

I called in sick with a stomach virus, but even though Richard had a twinge in his voice that sounded like he knew better, he let it slide. I tried to call Addison, but no answer. My mind briefly flitted to Erica, and I considered calling her to apologize but my pride kicked in before I could complete the thought. I hadn't done anything wrong; _she_ needed to apologize to me about her crazy anger blackouts.

I dialed the only other number I had programmed into my new phone. Mark Sloan answered almost instantly.

"How bad was it?" I asked.


	7. So Fast So Numb

...

A/N: Chapter 7/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 7, **So Fast, So Numb**, is told from Mark Sloan's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"So Fast, So Numb" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_you´re coming onto something so fast, so numb  
that you can´t even feel. _

……

"In vino veritas, that's what I can say about last night," I said. Callie was silent.

"What is THAT, Mark? Some new age crap?" Her voice was scratchy from smoking, one of many bad decisions she'd made last night at Joe's.

"No, it just means – it means that when Callie Torres drinks, she's even a worse liar than normal. When you actually stopped dancing last night, all you talked about was Erica Hahn. And you weren't just talking to me, you were talking to the whole bar," I leaned against the nurses' station, feeling a few sets of eyes on me as the conversation got juicy.

"Goddamn it! This is your fault, Sloan. Shit. Shit!"

"Whoa, hold on there, Torres. I did you and your lady love a _favor_, remember? I didn't hear you complaining when you were chasing her out of the hospital yesterday. In fact, you were probably the happiest I'd seen you since before O'Malley," I couldn't keep the pride out of my voice, knowing that I'd succeeded, even temporarily, in my goal. "I can keep pushing you two together, but if it doesn't stick – well, that's a you problem."

"Fine. You're right, I know you're right. I tried to explain that to Erica…"

"I know. You told me everything last night."

"About the beach? And the kissing?"

"_Everything_."

Silence. "And who else? Who else did I tell?"

"Yang. Karev. The Grey girls. You tried to tell O'Malley, too, but he left before you really got on a roll. Oh, and Joe of course. I think he got the biggest earful," I said. Suddenly, Miranda Bailey was in front of me holding charts and tapping them with her index finger.

"Listen, Cal, I gotta go. Duty calls." I closed the phone with a snap. "Dr. Bailey – where can I practice my magic today?"

"Was that Torres? This whole sick day thing is getting old; I know she's just hung over. You better tell her she's on thin ice," Miranda said, handing me the charts. "Anyway, I've got Torres and Yang paired up for the next teaching cycle, but since she's out, today you're getting both Lexie Grey and Yang. You had better start teaching them something. Or else."

……

Lexie Grey was a natural at plastics, her personality relaxed patients in a way that was crucial for their self-esteem. The patients wanted to trust her, she was so sincere. And not bad looking either, I couldn't help noticing. Yang, on the other hand, was much too direct with patients – I had to stop her before she explained the intricate details of a rhinoplasty to a frightened 8-year-old. It was obvious to both of us that she was wasting her time trying to learn from me, but Erica Hahn was nowhere to be found.

"Yang," I interrupted her and Grey, arguing over stitching methods. "Can you meet me in the on-call room?" Lexie's eyes widened and she giggled. "It's not what you think, Lexie, just get back in there and do whatever stitches you want. I'm sure you'll do a great job."

Yang hurried to the on-call room like frightened child. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sloan. I can do a better job, I promise. I – I like plastics. I swear!"

"Cristina, call me Mark." She looked at me, confused.

"Okay, um…Mark."

"I've got a proposal for you, to get you off of plastics and back on cardio, full-time. And don't even try to pretend that it doesn't interest you."

"I'm listening."

"Good. I promise you a continuous schedule of cardio scrub-ins if you promise me that you and your circle of friends will stop gossiping about Dr. Torres and Dr. Hahn. You have to call off your dogs." Yang thought for a few moments, weighing the difficulty of my request.

"Hmmm. Very tempting – I'm sure that I could curb the gossip – but I can't guarantee it will completely stop. It's so juicy! On the other hand," she clapped her hands together, "how long is a 'continuous schedule of cardio'?"

"I'm talking six months, Yang, of nothing but cardio."

"It's a deal!" She stuck out her hand and we shook.

"Oh, and one more thing," I added. "No more McSteamy. It's Mark, or Dr. Sloan. If I hear McSteamy again, the deal is off."

Cristina grimaced, and then nodded. One down, I thought, and one more cardiothoracic surgeon to go.

……

When I knocked on Erica Hahn's office door and looked around, the first word that popped into my mind was _sterile_. The place was immaculate – no dust, no unshelved books, no desk clutter. I thought about my office and its perpetual state of disarray, and realized this was yet another of the many differences between us.

The surgeon was on the phone, distracted, when I let myself in and sat down in one of her leather chairs. The office's walls were lined with framed certificates, degrees, and awards which told the story of her professional life. She had no framed photographs or any indication that she existed outside the office.

"Sloan," Erica said, hanging up the phone. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"I thought we could talk."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?"

"I don't think you _want_ to talk to me, I think you have no choice. I'm your closest ally, in case you haven't realized it yet, Dr. Hahn."

"Ally? I didn't know there was a war," she said, putting on her glasses and taking out a patient's file from her briefcase.

I reached my hand out and grabbed the file from her. "Oh, there is a war – it's you versus the world. And you're losing."

"Is this about Callie? Because I don't want to discuss it with you, Sloan. You've already stuck your pretty nose in too far, and I'm not averse to cutting it off."

I rolled my eyes, brandishing the file. "Funny you should mention Callie – poor girl had a really rough night. I had to go pick her up at the beach, of all places. You should have seen her; it was truly a sad sight – all the smeared makeup and the red eyes. And that was before the alcohol."

Erica sat back in her chair, her eyes searching my face, suddenly concerned. Then, like a switch, her eyes reverted to impenetrable stone and the look of concern vanished. "Your point, Dr. Sloan?"

"I have no point, Erica. _You_ brought Dr. Torres up. I came here with a message for you from Dr. Bailey," I said, standing up and dropping the file on her desk.

"I'm listening."

"Dr. Bailey has instituted a new system of teaching, starting today. As chief resident, she's assigned each attending one resident plus interns for the next six months. We're supposed to teach our resident every procedure they observe, so that at the end of the six months, they'll be able to replicate our work without our guidance. There will be weekly reviews, blah blah blah, you can ask Bailey for the details. She asked me to tell you, because she couldn't find you before her surgery. "

"Great. Anything else to add to my workload?"

"No, that about covers it. Since she couldn't find you, she gave me your resident for the day. I'm here to give her back. She's just not cut out for a career in plastics."

Hahn raised her eyebrows, a slight frown forming. "Let me guess – Cristina Yang?"


	8. Binky The Doormat

...

A/N: Chapter 8/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 8, **Binky The Doormat**, is told from Erica Hahn's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Binky The Doormat" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_She's a girl and she's loving me  
But distance is my tendency_

……

I pretended not to see Callie, sitting alone with her iPod, when I entered the cafeteria. It had been almost a week since I'd left her at the beach, a week constantly mentoring Dr. Yang, a week of wondering if Callie was okay. My heart sped up. My arms and legs started to tingle, partly out of fear and partly out of pure desire.

I surveyed the room – Yang and Grey together, Stevens making her way to their table, but none of them paying me any mind. I paused a moment to compose myself before finding a table that was out of Callie's line of sight.

I'd tried pruning the gossip grapevine for information about Callie. I knew from my own reconnaissance mission to the basement that she'd moved out – but either my stealth approach of uncovering intelligence wasn't very stealth, or the grapevine wasn't nearly as efficient as I'd previously believed. Most likely, it was a combination of the two. I deliberately avoided asking Yang or Sloan about Callie, for fear they already knew too much, and neither Dr. Webber nor Dr. Bailey knew anything except that she was working regular shifts again.

Just as I was pondering whether I was making a mountain out of a gossip molehill, Callie's shadow cast itself over my salad. I looked up slowly, swallowing a smile.

"Dr. Hahn, may I join you?" She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were dancing with life. I glanced around the room again, quickly, and noticed no heads turning toward my table. Callie leaned down, whispering in my ear. "Erica. No one is looking at you."

The whiff of lilac and the tickle of her breath on my ear was enough to drive me crazy. I took a deep breath, my calm voice belying my nerves. "Have a seat, Dr. Torres."

"See, the world didn't just implode," she said, sitting down and allowing her brilliant smile to shine. I nodded more enthusiastically than I'd planned.

"Callie," I said, lowering my voice, "I owe you another apology. I'm just…I'm not ready to be more than friends at work."

"And?"

"And what? That's it."

Callie beamed, leaning in toward my ear again, and whispered, "And what about after work?"

She stood abruptly before I could respond, grabbing my hand and slipping something into it. Then, just like that, she was gone. I tried once again to regain my composure, but I couldn't suppress a grin as I looked down at my hand. On the back of the Archfield Hotel business card, she'd scribbled her room number.

……

"This is a weekly review. Now, I don't have all kinds of time, but it's a requirement," Dr. Bailey said, sitting behind her desk. "Okay, so how have things been going, Dr. Hahn, since you and…" she consulted her list, "Dr. Torres…exchanged residents?"

She said _exchanged residents,_ but I heard _exchanged kisses_. I sat, shocked. Even Dr. Bailey knew? My hands got sweaty as Bailey waited, glaring at me.

"Dr. Hahn?"

"Uh – everything is going great, Dr. Bailey," Cristina Yang interrupted. "I've observed two coronary artery bypass grafts, an aortic valve replacement, and a mitral valve replacement aided by the daVinci robot. Dr. Hahn says that next week I'll be able to practice with the robot myself…"

Yang continued to rattle off her accomplishments, as I relaxed and realized that Bailey hadn't said what I'd first heard. But, Callie and I never exchanged residents. I'd never thought to double check when Sloan said Yang was my resident. Had Callie forced Sloan's hand, as some kind of retribution? It didn't seem quite like Callie's style, but nothing else made sense.

Bailey wrapped up the meeting quickly, satisfied that Yang and I hadn't cut each other's hearts out working as a team. As we left the office, Yang muttered, "Now that explains everything."

"What, Yang?"

"Sloan," she said. "I bet you anything that Callie begged him…" She stopped herself suddenly. "Um, never mind. How and why aren't really important, Dr. Hahn. In the end, everybody wins." She turned quickly and jogged down the hallway before I could ask her any more questions.

……

"Dr. Hahn – I thought this day would never come. I have to admit, I've imagined you paging me into an on-call room, but I guess your office will suffice," Mark Sloan grinned as he sauntered through the doorway. His visits to my office were becoming too frequent, but I was desperate. I'd spent the last few hours trying to piece together the puzzle, and he was the missing piece.

"Dr. Sloan. Please shut the door and have a seat."

"Oooh, is this a punishment? I didn't think you'd be into that, but I'm open to anything."

"I know you are, trust me. No, I'm on a fact-finding mission. I want to know how I got Yang assigned to me as a resident. Dr. Bailey informed me that was not her initial plan."

"Oh, that. It's not really that complicated –"

"Just tell me if Callie forced you," I interrupted, embarrassed at the pleading in my voice.

"Callie? Oh, I get it. You think she wants to make your life miserable with Yang because you made her life miserable?"

"I did no such thing, Dr. Sloan, and it's none of your damned business besides!"

"Calm down, Erica. First of all, it's my business when my friend is unhappy. Don't tell me it's not. Secondly, you need to stop assuming that everyone is out to get you. I told you I'm your ally, even if you don't believe me. Finally, Callie had nothing to do with this. It was my plan, and it worked perfectly."

I stared down at my hands. "What did you do?"

"I gave you Yang in exchange for a peaceful, gossip-free hospital for you and Callie."

"Gossip free? That's impossible, Sloan!"

"Well, not one hundred percent gossip-free. I was shooting for an acceptable level and Yang – she's a lot of things, but she has really been trying. She actually kicked Stevens in the cafeteria today and drew blood," Sloan laughed, and as I imagined that scene, I couldn't stop myself from laughing with him.

"I didn't notice that," I said, snapping my fingers and laughing again.

"That's your problem, Dr. Hahn," he said, suddenly serious again. "You don't notice the little things. I used to be the same way, and its cost me dearly. If you take the time, you'll start to see things clearly."

"New leaf?"

"Exactly. For example, did you know that Callie has been obsessed with you since Addison's visit?" I shook my head. "It was written all over her body, you just never looked. I've been trying to help you see, with the letter and with the deal with Yang. Callie's waiting for you to wake up."

……

As I got in my car, I replayed the conversation with Sloan. _Callie's waiting for you to wake up_. As much as I loathed admitting it, Mark Sloan wasn't such a bad guy. He went out of his way to make Callie happy, which was more than I could say for myself – pushing her away because of my own insecurities, abandoning her at far flung beaches. And yet, she was still waiting for me.

Amazed, I started the engine and pointed my car towards The Archfield, Room 204.


	9. Leave

...

A/N: Chapter 9/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 9, **Leave**, is told from Callie Torres's POV.

**NOTE: **Okay, the title totally does not fit this chapter – which is a GOOD thing, for sure. That's what happens when you decide the chapter titles before you write anything down. Anyway….Dear Baby Jesus, only 3 more chapters left and then it will be season premiere week!! YAY!

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Leave" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_I´ve longed for this to take me,  
I´ve longed for my release _

……

The Archfield Hotel is like a giant aphrodisiac for me. Something about living in a hotel where couples check in for trysts, hookups, or God-knows-what, has an amazing effect on me. It's as if all the passion oozing from all the rooms channels itself into my consciousness. When I live there, sex is all I can think about.

Christina kicked me of her place after I threw up in her bathroom, and I couldn't bear going back to the basement of Seattle Grace knowing that Erica Hahn could find me. So, I did what I had to do: I called my father and asked him to pay for a room at the Archfield. I played it perfectly, emphasizing my post-divorce depression and pleading for his help. He was powerless against his clever daughter.

The first night at the Archfield consisted of bad television, good room service, and me reminiscing about my own sexual history at the Archfield – George, then Mark, then more George. Amazingly, the sadness and regret that usually accompanied thoughts of my failed marriage were gone, replaced by pleasant recollections of the good moments.

My mind tricked me: despite my efforts to remember that Erica abandoned me at the beach, never called, and ignored me daily at the hospital – all I could think about was touching her. My mind created vivid scenarios of her and me in the Jacuzzi bathtub of my hotel room, ordering bottles of whipped cream from room service, and having wild passionate sex in every corner of the well-decorated room. And that was just the first night. After a week, I was over the edge.

My confidence blew past previous heights when I borrowed a page from Mark Sloan's playbook and concentrated on the way Erica acted when she saw me at the hospital – deliberately avoiding eye contact, pretending to do read charts whenever I passed by. I realized then, despite her insistence that a relationship at work was off the table, that she would not be able to resist Callie Torres. Not for long.

I saw my chance the day that she entered the cafeteria and sat alone. Erica pretended not to notice me, I pretended not to notice Izzie Stevens get a shin-kick from Yang, and all the residents pretended that Erica and I were invisible. The time was now. I reached into my scrubs pocket and retrieved the Archfield Hotel card with my room number already scribbled on the back.

I made my way to her table, back ramrod straight, knowing that nothing could stop me. Game on.

……

I let her knock four times as I slowly made my way to the door. I could sense that is was her, the butterflies started to flutter in my stomach despite my attempts to squash them down. _Go with the flow_, I thought. I flung open the door, surprising her, and leaned my body against the heavy oak door, drink in hand.

"Dr. Torres," Erica drawled, her eyes drinking me in from head to toe. "So nice to see you."

"Dr. Hahn. Please, come in. Can I offer you a drink?" I said, motioning towards the mini-bar. She entered, taking off her coat and tossing it on a chair.

"Tequila, if you have it. Nice place," she said, surveying the room, her eyes lingering on the large king-size bed, freshly made up.

"I'm not complaining," I turned to get her a drink, setting my down, hands shaking slightly. I hoped she didn't notice. I skimped on the ice, knowing that she'd thank me later. I brought it over to the bed where she sat. _Don't sit down yet_, I told myself.

"Erica," I said, purposefully, as I stood above her, sipping my scotch.

"Before you say anything, it's time for me to apologize again. I had a heart-to-heart with Sloan, and he really opened up my eyes. I've been so selfish, so stupid," she said, looking down into her drink and then bringing her blue eyes to meet mine.

"Sloan?"

"I had a moment of clarity – and he helped me achieve it. Who would have thought? I'm tired of pretending, it's making both of us miserable. You deserve so much more than that. I'm ready to do this all the way. At work, after work, before work. All the time. That is," she paused, still gazing at me, "if you are."

Erica Hahn blindsided me again. After a week of endless fantasy, I was willing to accept any of her rules just to be next to her. But she turned the tables, and gave me the best gift I'd ever gotten. I exhaled and sat down next to her on the giant bed. I wrapped my arms around her tightly.

"You have no idea how happy you have made me, Dr. Hahn," I whispered into her ear. "And make no mistake about it, even though this has never happened to me before, I'm ready. So ready," I leaned in and kissed her, her mouth opening to accept my exploring tongue. It wasn't long before we fell back on the bed, hands roaming each other's bodies and peeling off each other's clothes.

Erica moaned as I kissed her collarbone, my hands deftly unhooking her bra and removing it in a swift motion. Every movement felt completely natural, as if I'd been waiting my whole life for this opportunity. My body was filled with excitement as my lips made their way toward her breasts. I took my time, giving each one proper attention, as Erica continued to writhe beneath me.

"You're sure," she panted, pulling her body up further on the bed, "that you've never done this?"

"Positive," I said, moving my mouth back to hers and forcing my knee between her thighs. I smiled, taking in her beauty, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow, her cheeks rosy.

"Don't stop now," she commanded, smiling back and pulling my head in for another kiss.

……

By the time the sun peeked in through the hotel window, Erica and I had acted out nearly every one of my fantasies, except the whipped cream. She surprised me, continuously, with her stamina throughout the night. In the morning, I woke first, her arms and legs wrapped around me and holding on tight.

"Erica," I said, rubbing her arm. She stirred for a second, relaxed her legs so that I could wriggle out and stand up, and then went right back to sleep. "You're NOT going back to sleep, are you?"

"Hm. Saturday. Sleep."

"No way – we have things to do, and uh… I'm gonna order whipped cream from room service." That got her, as a smile spread across her face. She opened her eyes, her eyes raking my naked body up and down. Twice.

"Whipped cream. Let's do it," she said, awake, rolling out of bed and into the bathroom. "Shower time. You order, okay?"

I placed the order, and then walked around the room, picking up and separating our clothes. I felt reborn, a sense of purpose and belonging that had eluded me since – well, forever. I smiled as I reached under a pillow to retrieve Erica's underwear. I folded her clothes and set them on the bathroom counter and then I got dressed.

Erica stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed, and drying her hair with a towel when the food arrived with a curt knock. I looked at her, thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts. "You know that whipped cream is going to do to those jeans, right?"

She laughed as I flung the door open, laughing, and stopped instantly. In the doorway stood my father, holding a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy. I blinked and took a step back, floored.

"Calliope!" Dad exclaimed, shoving the candy into my hand.

"Dad?" I tried to close the door to hide the well-used bed and the freshly-cleaned girlfriend. No such luck. He pushed the door completely open. Erica didn't miss a beat, stepping forward and extending her hand.

"You must be Mr. Torres. Dr. Erica Hahn," she smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," he said, always the gentlemen, and bent to kiss her hand.

"You're just in time for breakfast, dad!" I exclaimed with a fake smile, shoving my father and Erica out the door desperately, knowing the incriminating whipped cream delivery was mere moments away. "Let's go downstairs!"


	10. Bittersweet Me

...

A/N: Chapter 10/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 10, **Bittersweet Me**, is told from Mark Sloan's POV.

**NOTE**: Mark's last chapter. I managed to do everything with him I wanted except to pair him with a current female on Grey's. The only real choice was Lexie, and it just seems way too old-man-creepy for me to handle. Who knows what Shonda will do in S5 but I hope it's not that. Let's find Mark a new girl! But for now, a past stand-in will have to do…enjoy!

As always, thanks for all the reviews and encouragement from everyone. Only 2 more to go – and 10 days till the premiere!!

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Bittersweet Me" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_Oh my peer,  
your veneer is wearing thin and cracking. _

……

"Mark!" Callie screamed, barreling into me and hugging me from behind, tight – and not a _good_ tight, but an I-can-easily-break-your-ribs-tight. I gasped for breath as soon as she freed me.

"Dr. Torres, I presume?" I coughed, turning around to face her, noting her lack of scrubs. "Working on a Sunday? Let me guess, your girlfriend got paged and you thought you'd spend the day together, curing the sick?"

"Ummmm…no, not exactly. Erica's not here. It's just me. And my dad," Callie said, gesturing towards a waiting room, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Your dad? What is it; bring your Dad to work Sunday? Did I miss the memo?"

Callie scowled briefly, and then transformed her mouth back into a hopeful smile. "No, nothing like that. My dad is here visiting, because he needs surgery. Elective. Surgery." She continued to smile.

"What _kind_ of surgery are we talking about? No, wait, let me guess. Something to do with my area of expertise?"

"Well, um, sorta," she shuffled her feet, looked down and then back up at me again. "Okay, yes. He needs…well, he wants…um…"

"Spill it."

"Liposuction," she said, biting her lip.

"Your father wants liposuction?"

"Long story, but it's a country club thing. He feels like he's being judged by the other men. Pure vanity, I know. But he's made up his mind, and when my dad makes up his mind, nothing stops him," she took a deep breath and grabbed my arm desperately. "Here's the thing – the wait in Miami is a month, and he's already had all of his pre-op screening done. He's in perfect health; all he needs is a willing plastic surgeon…"

"And you think I'll clear my schedule for him because…why?"

"Because we're friends! And also, because if he stays here much longer than a week, I'm going to kill him," she muttered between clenched teeth. I grinned at her, grabbed a chart from the rack, and started walking toward my patient's room. She was quick, jogging down the hall and turning in front of me to cut off my path. She grabbed my arm again, pulling me in the direction of the waiting room. "Come on, Mark. Help a girl out."

"I've done nothing but help you out. For weeks," I reminded her. She let go of my arm, her eyes clouding over.

"I know. And Erica knows. And believe me; we're more grateful than you'll ever know. Really, Mark," she said, sincerely. "When my dad is gone, we've got plans to thank you. Big plans. But for right now, if you don't help me get my dad out of Seattle, those plans will never happen."

"Oh, I get it now! Papa Torres is putting a crimp in the lady love, right?"

"More than a crimp, if you must know," she grimaced, shoulders slumping. "My dad's very traditional, and so far he doesn't suspect anything – but this pretending can't go on forever. I can't live like this."

"Can't you just tell him the truth?"

With that, Callie let loose a maniacal laugh that caused all people within earshot to turn their heads toward her. She looked around, still laughing, but managing to turn the volume down.

"No," she hissed. "The truth is NOT an option."

"Honesty is the best policy, you know," I said, attempting to walk away again. She stepped on my toe, crushing down hard. "Ow! Dammit, Torres!"

"Um…sorry. Listen, I have a deal for you. I can get you something you've been wanting for a long time if you help me out. But I can't tell you what it is, just yet. You'll just have to trust me."

"You nearly broke my damn toe…and you want me to trust you?"

"I can break it for real next time," she taunted, lifting her heel up in the air again.

"Okay, deal. But it better be good, Torres. You owe me."

……

Mr. Torres's surgery was scheduled for Wednesday, and indeed he was in excellent health as Callie had reported. Early that morning, I stopped in for the pre-op evaluation.

"Mr. Torres," I knocked, opening the door.

"Dr. Sloan. Thank you again for fitting me into your schedule."

"Don't thank me, thank your daughter. She's got amazing powers of persuasion," I said.

Callie's dad guffawed. "She sure does. She learned that from her mother. Men just cannot say no."

"So true. Okay, Mr. T. Here's the rundown. I'll be performing the procedure, with an assist from Dr. O'Malley, my resident. He'll be stopping by before you get anesthesia to – "

"Wait a second – George O'Malley? As in, my former son-in-law?" Mr. Torres's face turned a bright shade of red and I could hear the frequency of the pulse monitor increase.

"Yes, the same. He's my resident, and this is a teaching hospital, Mr. Torres. He's a very competent surgeon and I am sure he won't let the past interfere with his work."

"YOU are sure. I'm not so sure. That little man never liked me; he stood up to me and told me my money was not good enough for him and my baby. THEN he cheated on my girl and made her cry! And you expect me to allow him operate on me? No way!"

"Daddy!" Callie interrupted, rushing in from the doorway. She went to his side, grabbing his hand.

"Baby! Why didn't you tell me about this!" Mr. Torres sighed, leaning back against the pillows.

"Daddy, I didn't know. Really, I didn't," she looked up at me, desperate.

"Mr. Torres, there is no need to worry. I can exchange residents for the procedure with Dr. Hahn, if it means that much to you," I said as Callie's face relaxed. "I believe that Dr. Yang is free this morning."

"I can check for you, Dr. Sloan," Callie said, rushing out of the room quickly.

Mr. Torres's pulse returned to normal. "Thanks, son. And thanks again for doing this on such short notice. Callie must really trust you, to ask this favor. She's like me in that she hates to ask for favors. Be good to her," he said pointedly, eyes narrowed. I swallowed.

"No problem, Mr. T. I'll send in Dr. Yang and then we'll get started."

……

After I instructed Yang on the post-op procedures for Mr. Torres, I scrubbed out and paged Callie. I waited in the on-call room for her, reminiscing about old times and the fun we used to have. I was amused at first that her father assumed that we were a couple, but that amusement turned bittersweet as the day went on. Callie was a great woman, and she was happy with Erica. I wish that happiness were as easy for me to find. Derek tripped over his happiness daily. I was transforming myself, being a Good Person, and still – I was alone.

Callie opened the door and entered, followed by Erica.

"Dr. Torres, Dr. Hahn."

"Dr. Sloan," Erica sing-songed. They were holding hands.

"How is dad?" Callie asked.

"He's doing great – no complications. And Yang did a good job assisting me; she's very professional. He just needs some rest and he can be discharged tomorrow morning."

"That's great, Mark. Thank you so much!" Callie let go of Erica's hand and hugged me. Erica then gave me a quick hug, which surprised me immensely. I hadn't been sure she knew what a hug was.

"Listen, you two," I said. "I know you don't want to be lectured, now that you are all happy and in love and at work, no less. But, your dad thinks – I _think_ he thinks that we're…involved."

Callie laughed. Erica scowled. "So what?" Callie reasoned. "He'll be gone on Friday and then it won't matter!"

"That's just it, Callie. It does matter; he deserves to know the truth. I won't say anything, but you know where I stand." Neither woman said anything, but Erica nodded with understanding. "Oh! And one more thing Torres – you still owe me."

……

It was late, and I was back at Joe's bar – drinking water and eating pretzels. It seemed as if time had stood still since my first night of no drinking. Where had I ended up? Nowhere.

"Joe," I said, waving.

"Dr. Sloan. Hard day?"

"No, not too bad. I'm just a little lonely. Maybe I'll have my old regular," I said, slipping him a twenty across the bar.

"You sure you want to do that?" Joe said, concerned. Not too many bartenders questioned someone ordering a drink, but Joe was not like most bartenders.

"I'm sure," I said as my cell phone vibrated in my jeans. I smiled as I saw the photo ID of the caller. "Hey, stranger."

"Not as strange as you, Mark Sloan. How are you doing?"

"Better, now that you called. One question," I said, grinning with realization. "Who told you to call?"

"Callie, of course," Addison Montgomery intoned, voice smooth as syrup.

"Remind me to thank her."


	11. Be Mine

...

A/N: Chapter 11/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 11, **Be Mine**, is told from Erica Hahn's POV.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and encouragement of all types. PLEASE. Ok thanks.

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Be Mine" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_and if I choose your sanctuary  
I want to wash you with my hair.  
I want to drink of sacred fountains  
and find the riches hidden there. _

……

"Only one more day," Callie said, digging her toes into the sand. "One more. Doesn't it feel like the days are getting longer?"

"Definitely," I said, leaning back on the towel. It was Thursday, the sun was rising behind us as we stared into the ocean. We'd been meeting here, secretly, away from her father and the Archfield, for a week. He was leaving tomorrow, thankfully, after getting Sloan's travel approval. "It reminds me of my first girlfriend, and how it used to feel in high school."

"Ah, your first. Do tell, Dr. Hahn," Callie exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

"There's not much to tell. I don't think either of us realized what was happening, but I remember one summer, her family went on vacation out west for like a month. It was agony – the days were like years. I counted minutes. I wrote letters but I couldn't send them because they were moving around so much, so mainly I just sat around and moped. I even forgot to change clothes until my mom yelled at me about it."

"And then?"

"Nothing. She came back, school started, and –"

"You never gave her the letters?"

"No way. It seems simple now, Callie, but it wasn't simple then. I did tell her how I felt, eventually, and we even made out a few times. That was much later, right before college. She went far away, and I didn't. That was the end of that."

We sat in silence for a while, Callie staring off into the distance while I stared at her feet. She had lovely feet. She had lovely everything, and I felt a surge of love rush through my body. Any past feelings of what I thought were love could not compare to the emotions I felt for this woman.

"I had one more girlfriend, in med school. But I had to break up with her."

"Why?" Callie asked, burying her feet deeper in the sand.

"Cradar."

"What?"

"Cradar. It's like gaydar, but for crazy people. She set everyone's off like, instantly. But it took me a little bit longer than everyone else to accept." Callie started to laugh as she buried her calves and patted the sand down on top of them.

"What did she do?"

"Well, she ate out of dumpsters, even though she had plenty of food at her apartment. Slightly embarrassing. She changed her name three times – legally – in the short time we dated. I never knew what to call her – Elizabeth, Patricia, Angela - so that was a problem. She punched her Women's Studies professor in the face once because she wasn't "a true feminist" – whatever that means."

"And which of these was your tipping point?" Callie asked, amazed.

"None of them, actually. It wasn't until we went to the beach and she told me the story about watching someone drown that I had to get out."

"Oh! She reminded you of what happened to your father?"

"Yeah. It wasn't – well, it isn't – something I like to think about. It's hard. And she told this whole story about watching some surfer drown, how humans will go under 3 times before they disappear completely, and I just freaked out. I couldn't handle it anymore," I paused, willing myself not to cry. I looked at Callie and saw the concern in her dark eyes. I'd never told anyone that story, but it seemed so natural to tell her everything. I reached for her hand and smiled. "So I said, look, Elizabeth Patricia Angela – we have to break up. You're a crazy bitch."

Callie threw her head back in laughter, which made me feel another rush of love spread through my body. I turned my body towards her and grabbed her other hand, which was covered with sand. I leaned in a kissed her lips.

"I just – Callie, I. I just –"

"I love you, Erica," she blurted, stealing my thunder. I gazed into her eyes again and felt safe, like home.

"I love you, too."

……

"Mr. Torres, Dr. Sloan," I said, grabbing the back of the chair. Mr. Torres stood quickly, and pulled out the chair for me. "Where's Callie?"

"She's on her way. You know women, they always need more time," Mr. Torres said, his dark eyes looking towards Sloan. "Dr. Hahn – I hope you don't mind that I invited Dr. Sloan. Kind of a thank you dinner after all the work he did for me this week."

"I appreciate it, Mr. T," Mark said as Callie walked into the restaurant, turning the heads of everyone at the table. She was wearing a simple summery yellow dress that seemed far from simple, and my mind automatically started to fill with dirty thoughts. I stomped them down, momentarily, as Callie made her way to her seat.

"Callie, you look lovely tonight," Mark said, beaming.

"She always looks lovely, Dr. Sloan," her father corrected. I sat on my hands, mouth dry, only able to nod. I was cautious not to say anything to draw her father's attention. "Callie, I knew you'd be pleased that I invited Dr. Sloan to join us."

Callie's eyes darted directly to mine, and I looked down at the table. "Pleased? Uh – of course, daddy. Very pleased!"

The dinner was pleasant – as pleasant as possible, considering that Callie's father kept making suggestive comments about Mark and Callie, which caused Mark to smile and Callie to shift uncomfortably in her seat. I didn't say much of anything, claiming fatigue from a long work day, but I managed to drink 3 glasses of dark red wine. I'd been hoping to sneak up to Callie's room after the meal, but I realized the risk was not worth it. He suspected nothing, and it was best to keep it that way for one more night.

"Mr. Torres, my money is no good with you?" I asked, after Mr. Torres refused to allow me to pitch in on the bill.

"Dr. Hahn, I insist. You've all been so kind to me this past week, and so kind to my daughter, helping her deal with her divorce."

"Thanks, dad. Thanks for bringing that up again," Callie said, finishing her glass of wine.

"Mr. Torres, let me offer a service in lieu of money, then. Tomorrow is my day off, let me drive you to the airport," I offered. He looked at Callie briefly.

"Is that okay, honey?"

"Yes, daddy, I've got an early surgery. Thanks, Erica, that is very kind of you," Callie said, giving me a quick wink.

"It's set, then. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Torres."

……

The next morning, I was as nervous as a schoolgirl about picking up Mr. Torres at the Archfield. I'd practiced what I'd say to him in the shower, but it always sounded juvenile and awkward. Part of the problem was I'd never come out to anyone, much less my new girlfriend's father. I couldn't imagine what words would make this go smoothly.

Callie's father was waiting for me in the lobby, impeccably dressed in a suit with perfectly combed black hair. He didn't look anywhere near his actual age, and the recent surgery had only taken a slight bit of color from his cheeks. Watching his movements as he walked towards me, I could see parts of Callie in everything he did. My mind shifted to my own father, whose face I could barely remember without photographs, and for the first time, the thought of him did not make me sad. I wondered what I would tell him about my life now, if I were taking him to the airport.

"Dr. Hahn," Mr. Torres said, kissing my hand as he always did. Such a polite man, he never ceased to impress me. I loaded his bags into the car as he lowered himself in to the passenger seat, his slow movements the only indication that he'd had surgery just two days ago. I was silent as I merged into traffic, but as soon as we got on the main highway, I decided to talk.

"Do you have a direct flight?"

"Yes, it's the only way I will fly. I'm actually terrified to fly, and I believe that's why Calliope chose to move to the farthest city from Miami as possible," he said with a brief laugh. "But I had the last laugh – I visit her more now than when she lived 5 miles from home!"

"I did the same thing," I blurted. "I mean, I moved to the other side of the country. But not to escape my family, it's not like that at all." I was revealing too much, talking more now than I had all week. "I was just following my mentor, who happened to work out here."

"Oh, it's no big deal, really. When I was young, I hopped a plane to Miami for college, and I never told my parents. It was years before they found me, they thought I had died. But, things were much different then," he rationalized. "Besides, Calliope is like me – adventurous. I knew from the minute she started to walk that it'd be difficult to stop her."

I smiled, attempting to relax, but my hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. I decided it would be easier to say nothing, just let the blissfully ignorant man get on the plane. Mark Sloan was wrong; Mr. Torres didn't need to know. "She's certainly a free spirit, that's for sure."

There was another awkward pause. Mr. Torres shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.

"I know," he said. I looked at him out of the corner of my right eye; he was staring at my hands. "I mean, I know. Don't worry, Dr. Hahn, I'm not that conservative or behind-the-times. I know my daughter better than any living human on the planet. I know she loves you."

"How?" I asked, swallowing and staring straight ahead.

"Well, besides barging in on you two when I got here – it's in the way she looks at you. She doesn't look at anyone like that. She never looked at George O'Malley like that, and she married that one. And she talks about you all the time, even before I met you it was 'Erica this' and 'Dr. Hahn that'. She's pretty much an open book, if you care to read."

I sat still for a second, pretending to concentrate on the road. He knew. Everyone knew. We were fooling no one. I felt liberated, finally able to breathe. I grinned despite myself.

"She is a wonderful woman," I said, at a loss for words. Mr. Torres put his hand on top of mine.

"Let me say the one thing I always say to Calliope's suitors – just don't hurt my little girl."

"I promise I won't," I said, and with that, the conversation ended. We rode in comfortable silence to the airport, where he hugged me tightly and wished me good luck. Then he was gone.


	12. Electrolite

...

A/N: Chapter 12/12 of **New Adventures**

**New Adventures** is a set of stories inspired by Callie/Erica and their cupid, Mark Sloan. The action picks up after S4 finale, may contain some spoilers for S5, but not much because I don't know much. This set of stories should be completely done before the S5 premiere, and should help me survive the next month.

All chapter titles are borrowed from R.E.M.'s album, _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_, but rearranged to fit the narrative.

Chapter 12, **Electrolite**, is told from Callie Torres's POV. It's the **FINAL CHAPTER**. Wow.

**NOTE**: Whew! Okay, this last one is for Shonda – because it's all about the floods and the ice storms, ain't it? Thanks to **everyone** for reading and commenting. As a final recap, I think I got every character on Grey's in that I could manage (not to mention every plot point I could find for S5), although some of them were not allowed to speak (the Greys, Alex). Read into that what you will. I like, um, 2 of those 3 – but none of them really fit into the Callie/Mark/Erica dynamic all that well.

**NOTE 2**: Bonus points to the first commenter who knows what iconic show/scene is referenced in Mark's scene near the end of the chapter. (Hint: Callie's high school boyfriend's name is a clue.)

I don't own _Grey's Anatomy_ or R.E.M., or any of the characters therein.

……

"Electrolite" – R.E.M. – _New Adventures in Hi-Fi_ (1996)

_If you ever want to fly.  
Mulholland Drive.  
Up in the sky.  
Stand on a cliff and look down there.  
Don´t be scared.  
You are alive._

……

Dusk settled in the skies outside of Seattle Grace. I stopped and stared out of the window, worried. Where was Erica? She should've called by now, she'd taken Dad to the airport hours earlier. I'd even checked his departure online, no issues reported. And Dad, he always called me first whenever his plane touched down, which, according to the airline, happened three hours ago. No call.

I rechecked my phone, nothing. The sky was light purple, almost glowing. I called Erica again, straight to voicemail. I hung up, not wanting to leave yet another message. There must be a logical explanation, but I couldn't imagine one.

A finger tapped my shoulder. I turned slowly, my feet as heavy as bricks.

"Callie, thank God! I've been paging you," Cristina Yang exclaimed. She swept her arm over her head dramatically. "Can you believe this? Water everywhere. Bailey said a main broke, or something, but this is ridiculous. A world-class hospital, flooded!" She looked up at me expectantly.

I surveyed the ground, picking my heavy shoe up and back down. Sure enough, squish. How had I missed something this obvious? I started to ask Yang that very question, but she cut me off.

"I need a consult, a broken leg. He's in ER 3." She led the way down the soaked hallway, both of our shoes squishing out a different beat. "His name is Bobby - he says he knows you. Anyway, he fell off some scaffolding."

The patient was young, probably sixteen, and in obvious pain. He tried to sit up when I entered the room, but his broken leg prevented his mobility. He gave up and collapsed backwards in the bed.

"Bobby, I'm Dr. Torres." I extended a hand. He waved it off.

"I know you, don't you remember me?" I looked at him closely, but no bells went off.

"I'm sorry. How do you know me?"

"We went to high school together. In Miami. We went on a date, once, to a football game. But then your dad showed up at the game, and you freaked out. I can't believe –"

"Hold on. Stop. We went to high school together? You're just a kid! Not possible!" I turned my head to get Yang's reaction, but she had squished off back to the pit. I turned back to Bobby, and the bed was empty. Not even a slight indentation in the mattress. I ran my hand across the sheet, and it was ice cold.

"Yang! Yang, get in here NOW!" I was screaming loudly, my head was pounding, and I felt dizzy. I looked down at the floor, and it was completely dry. I picked up my shoe, and it was no longer heavy. I collapsed back in a chair, waiting for Cristina, who never came back.

……

Bang! Bang! "Callie! Callie, there's something wrong with the car! Stop!"

I turned my head, hands tight on the wheel, to see George O'Malley frantically banging his hands on the dashboard. I slammed on the brakes.

"George?"

"Thank God! Why weren't you listening to me? You almost killed us!" George pointed frantically out the passenger window into the dark abyss. I jumped out of the car and ran to his side, stopping quickly at the edge of the cliff. The Mustang was still on the road, but barely. The road was narrow, hilly, and precarious.

"What the hell is going on, George? Where are we?"

"Hell if I know, somewhere between Seattle and Las Vegas. All of the sudden, the car started to overheat, and you just kept on driving, really close to the edge. I screamed and screamed but you would not stop! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I grabbed my pounding head, shouting, "I don't know! I have no idea!" Smoke was pouring out from under the hood. I told George to pop the hood while I grabbed my tools out of the back seat. He loomed behind me, pretending to know what he was looking at.

"George, back off. Please." He made a slight sound and then took two steps back. Everything seemed intact. "I think it just needs oil." I made my way back to the trunk, where I always carried extra motor oil for emergencies.

"Callie, this is a mistake."

"It just needs _oil_, George. It will be fine," I insisted, grabbing a bottle.

"No, I mean this. Las Vegas, this wedding. I've been so confused after my dad died, I know, but you nearly killed us just now, and you don't even care," he said, taking a few more steps backwards. "Just admit it, we're like oil and water. And your dad called me, telling me some wild story about inheritance money. Is that true, you're like, rich?"

I bent over the engine, carefully pouring the oil in as the smoke dissipated into the thin air. I could barely breathe. My head was pounding and my face was warm. George's voice kept drifting further and further into the distance until it disappeared completely. I kept pouring the oil until it covered both of my hands. I sat down on the pavement and started to cry.

……

The alarm shrilled, and I sat up in a cold sweat, panting. I grabbed the glass of water I always kept bedside and splashed my face. The shower was running, but it was still dark outside. It was freezing in the room, as if the air had been left on high all night. I made my way to the register to adjust it when I noticed the storm outside. Pellets of ice were pelting the hotel room's window and the ground was covered with a uniform, shiny coat of the stuff. From the second floor, I could hear the ice pellets pinging off the ground's frozen layer.

I grabbed my robe out of the closet, wrapping it tightly around my body as the shower stopped running.

"Erica – have you seen this storm?" I walked over to the bathroom, and knocked on the door. "Erica? You're not going to believe the dreams I've been having. Weird shit, like – "

Mark Sloan stepped out of the steamy bathroom, wearing a towel around his waist.

"What was that?" He asked, drying his ears with a washcloth. I shivered.

"Mark? What the hell is going on? Where is Erica?" My head started to pound again, more dull than intense, but still uncomfortable.

"Beats me. Probably at home, alone, like she always is. That woman is an island, Callie." I lay back down on the bed, grabbing the sheets to cover my shivering body. "Have you seen this ice yet? It's fantastic. Oh! Your dad called me, wanted to know if you were okay. Are you okay? Callie? Callie?"

……

"Callie? Callie?" A warm hand pressed against my forehead. My eyelids were heavy and uncooperative.

"Mmmm," I mumbled, grabbing at the sheets, still freezing. "Cold."

"Let me get you another blanket." Footsteps shuffling across the carpet quickly, and then another blanket being tucked beneath my chin.

"Mmmm thanks," I said, forcing my eyes open. Erica's blue eyes were gazing back at me, full of concern. My head still ached. I tried to ask about my father, but all that came out was, "Mmmm?"

Somehow, she understood me. She always understood. "Your dad's fine, back in Miami. He called and left me a message, said he couldn't reach you." I reached my hand out from under the warm blankets to grab her hand. Her fingers were so warm against my cold ones. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it.

"My dad…called…you?"

"Yes," she beamed. "We're like, best friends now, you know, since he realized how much you mean to me." I rolled over on my side, still holding her hand.

"Wait a second. He knows about us?"

"He's not blind, Callie. He figured it out."

"And…and he didn't freak out?" I whispered, dread in my stomach.

"Not really. He just forced me to sign a pre-nup, give him a blood sample, and took my fingerprints," Erica deadpanned. "The usual." I tried to laugh, but no sound came out. I rolled back on my back, exhausted.

"Unbelievable," I muttered. "You are."

"No, you are. Now, get some rest. You're fever broke, but you need to sleep. Plus, it's been fun to listen to you talk in your sleep," she grinned, kissing my forehead. "Who's this Bobby person?"

"I have no idea," I lied, closing my eyes. "Thanks for taking care of me, Erica. I love you."

She didn't say anything as I fell back to sleep, but she squeezed my hand tightly to reassure me that she would always take care of me.


End file.
